


Routine

by Chellodello



Category: Tales of Graces
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellodello/pseuds/Chellodello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard starts his morning the exact same way every day. “Hello. Good morning. I love you and I’m sorry.”<br/>Or;<br/>Forgiveness means many things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

Richard starts his morning the exact same way every day. He finds comfort in a routine, it’s orderly, familiar, safe.

The young king of Windor wakes up just before dawn; automatically like a sunflower reacting to the emerging sun, and stares at the canopy of the bed for a few moments trying to collect his bearings.  It’s not often that Richard dreams but when he does he takes great care to try and recall them, see if they mean anything or are at least entertaining. Sophie loves to hear about dreams, and he only tells her the sweet ones.

That accomplished, or not accomplished given the circumstances, he stretches a bit, yawns and turns to face Asbel, who more often than not is just barely awake blinking sleepily at him. The brunette was many things, brave, kind, understanding, loving, but a morning person was not among those traits.

His tussled hair and mismatched eyes are as calming as any cup of tea, a natural soothe for any nightmares he might have had: real or dreamed up.

Then comes the most important part of the morning ritual: the part that the blond treats with the utmost importance. Richard smiles warmly, lays a bare hand on his cheek and says with utmost care and importance: “Hello. Good morning. I love you and I’m sorry.”

-

Asbel is, of course, unsettled by this. So soon after the events at the Lastalia Shaft, he understood his need to assuage his guilt, even though Asbel held nothing against him. He  _had_  caused much chaos after all. But with much time and reassures that the entire world forgave him the brunet had hoped that such statements would eventually stop.

But they don’t. Two years removed from the incident and Richard still apologized every morning.

He’s knows Richard inside and out, knows how very prone to self-destruction he is. The idea that he blamed himself enough to start the day off with an apology filled the would-be knight’s heart with sadness. But for all his misgivings about the action, he isn’t how to approach the issue without mincing words and hurting him.

Telling Richard to just stop would come off as being closed to his guilt, but saying nothing in response seemed just as dismissive. Cheria once told him that he got mad when he was upset, but honestly Asbel doesn’t know how to feel this, mad or otherwise.

Mostly he’s just confused and concerned and does what he always does when he can’t figure out a particularly troubling problem: he asks his friends.

Lambda has been inside Richard's head and advises that such guilt will never leave him; that he’s not capable of letting it go and he will live with it until the day he dies. Despite his grim tone and heavy words, it’s nothing that Asbel hadn’t already known.

Hubert suggests being direct about it and tell him it made him uncomfortable to hear him abate himself for long since forgiven misdeeda. This method sounds good in theory but every time he tries to practice it his tongue gets tied and backs out. Telling Sophie was not a viable option; that would most likely make her feel bad for the part she played in his guilt and the last thing he wanted was to have both parts of his family morose.

The captain was holed up in Fendel tower and Asbel felt silly interrupting state work with his personal problems, mentor or not, so he doesn’t ask him. And Cheria, well, he’s honestly not sure what Cheria, or his mother for that matter, would say. Their tempers were too mercurial to really guess at what they would and wouldn’t say and besides Cheria was heavens know where with her relief organization.

So somehow Asbel ends up spilling his guts to Pascal of all people when she stops by Barona to pick the castle for materials and banana treats.

“I could be going about this the wrong way, kings are waaaaaaaaaaaay complicated, but maybe he doesn’t want you to be all  _‘Oh no Richard don’t feel bad mwha mwha mwha’_  with him.” Like most things were Pascal is concerned he doesn’t understand the underlying grammar of her thoughts and tells her as much.

“I’m not sure I understand Pascal.”

Pascal pops another banana tartlet in her mouth and tries again.

“Okay, um, look at it this way then. Maybe “I’m sorry” doesn’t mean ‘ _please forgive me’_  but _‘let me try again’_? Sort of like when I blew up the south wing of Oswell’s house that one time. I told Hu I was sorry but I already  _knew_  that he forgave me because he always forgives me. It was more like I was asking for him to give me another chance to  _not_  blow up his dad’s house. So, like Richard knows he messed up and nothing is gonna change that, but he just wants to make sure you always know he’s trying to do better? You know?”

Surprisingly enough he does.

-

Now Asbel’s day starts the same way every day.

He has a strict policy of not waking up before the sun does unless he is preparing to travel or there are truly pressing issues to deal with in the castle that morning. It takes a fair amount of stimulus to rouse him out of slumber, small things that pile up until he is able to make himself open his eyes: the bed shifting, the cracking of Richards’s joints as he stretches, the panels of the canopy shifting against each other.

Asbel dreams often. He isn’t sure if they’re his or Lambda’s but they are vivid and full of life and possibility. Usually by time he’s prompted into waking vestiges of dreams are the last things he sees before blinking into consciousness.  He’ll fall back to sleep soon, it’s still much too early, but right now there is an important matter to attend to.

Richard is smiling above him, blond hair and bright brown eyes a beacon in the dim morning light, cupping his cheek like a promise. “Hello. Good Morning. I love you and I’m sorry.”

And Asbel, clumsy with sleep and full of warmth, grasps his hand and smiles back. “Hello Good morning. I love you more and there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

-

Richard, of course, understands immediately that 'there's nothing to be sorry for' means ' _Lets try together'_ and kisses him soundly.

This too becomes a vital part of their morning routine.

-

**Author's Note:**

> I’m fulfilling my obligation as a richass shipper and contributing to the sad lack of fics. Even if it’s with this shitty drabble. Blame languidcrow on tumblr for this.


End file.
